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Sonnet- XXII
There is no other April to behold
Regret for such acceptance may compare
The illness of thy nature soon unfold,
For what has told: mortality is fair.
So let thy palaces replace their place
In thy clandestine phase obliterate?
From cellar of devotion death might face;
Significance of yesterday is late.
But thro' the season's edge, our love will last
When summer grac'd the grass it shines again;
Thine arcane feelings felt (with so much trust)
Thus, memories have real meanings then.

Betwixt the current page that dimm'd by sign,
It fadeth 'gainst the time...within the line.

By amberdusk

© 2017 amberdusk (All rights reserved)


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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The WORD PAINTING Challenge with Fleur (Pragya) read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)

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